


let me be your killer king,

by MetaAllu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Consensual Slut Shaming, D/s undertones, Dirty Talk, Disobedience, Hi I'm disabled and y'all best believe I love Shiro's prosthetic, I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT THESE TAGS YIKES, M/M, Punishment, Spanking, Temperature Play, Unsolicited nudes, Verbal Humiliation, i guess?, smh im shamed of u keithory, sorr y yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 09:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetaAllu/pseuds/MetaAllu
Summary: In the end, Keith falls asleep on the sofa, and he’s woken up when he’s slapped straight across the face.  With a startled grunt, his eyes pop open, and he finds himself staring up at a steel-eyed Shiro.“Hey, gorgeous,” Keith slurs. He’s a disaster, half-tucked under a blanket, shirt rucked up, pants rucked down, and god, Shiro is looking at him with what can literally only be described as disgust.“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks.  He sounds unamused, but that’s perfectly fine with Keith.  He gives him a lazy, seductive smirk and shrugs his shoulders.“Plenty,” he says, and then he reaches out to yank Shiro closer by his belt loops.  “You pissed?”





	let me be your killer king,

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to make me feel better, but it only made me feel worse, so how 'bout that.
> 
> title from p!atd's victorious  
> based loosely off a roleplay. you know who you are.  
> wink wonks to my rm for cleaning this sloppy bitch up before i embarrassed myself on the internet.

Keith gets home from work feeling like he’s on fire.  He tears off his coat, kicks off his boots, and even though it’s the middle of the day, just past noon, he still get in his pyjamas, pulling his phone out of his jeans pocket, clothing abandoned on the path between the door and his room.

Then he strides into the kitchen to heat himself leftovers as he opens a barren text conversation.  Up until now, it’s consisted mostly of things like _Out of TP_ and several instances of _Stop leaving your boots in the bathroom_.  He licks his lips as he fires off a text to his roommate, the too-sexy-completely-willing-to-fuck-him Takashi Shirogane.

 **Keith:** hey

The reply doesn’t come for another 10 minutes, and he’s halfway through his food by the time his phone buzzes next to him on the couch.

  
**Shiro:** I’m at work.  
**Keith:** and im at home. Why r we stating facts?  
**Shiro:** Stop texting me.

Keith sighs and slides down against the sofa.  Man. For a kinky monster, Shiro sure is no fucking fun.  He licks his lips, and then he puts on an episode of a medical drama he’s been binging while he finishes off his food.  He leaves his plate on the coffee table and wipes his hand off on his pyjama pants before pulling them down. Irritation and energy is still buzzing under his skin.  It doesn’t help that Shiro fucking blew him off. He wants to be on his dick right now, holding him down by his wrists, leaning all his weight into the hold as rides him, uses him for his own pleasure.  Only better if Shiro bucks under him, tries to break free.

With a groan, Keith fumbles for his phone and snaps a picture of his tugged down pants, his hard cock in his hand, and then he sends it to Shiro.  He replies almost instantly.

 **Shiro:** Stop.  
**Keith:** thinking about you under me.  
**Keith:** come home and fuck me, baby.  
**Shiro:** Some of us have real jobs.  I’m not leaving early just so you can drool on my dick, you worthless whore.

Oh, _yeah_ .  That’s how he likes it.  He’s not sure if Shiro means to rile him up, but he’s _pretty_ sure he does, and if he’s going for genuinely scolding, he should know better than to talk like that.

 **Keith:** don’t be like that.  
**Keith:** what if i come there?  
**Shiro:** You had better not.  I don’t need my clients knowing I know someone like you.

Shit.  Keith _knows_ he pushes Shiro’s buttons, and even better, Shiro pushes his back.  The consistent humiliation is doing Shiro no favours, Keith’s erection throbbing in his hand.

 **Keith:** fine.  I’ll just take care of this myself, then.  
**Shiro:** Don’t you dare. You started this.  You’re mine now. Save it for when I’m home.

Keith stares down at his phone, and then he does exactly what he knows he shouldn’t: he imagines Shiro here, imagines Shiro driving into him, pushing his face down into the scratchy old sofa, knees burning, bites on his shoulders from vicious teeth.  He groans, tossing his head back as fantasies crash into each other, and ultimately it’s a fantasy of Shiro on his knees, teeth sinking into his thigh and staring up at him as he jerks his cock that does it.

He slams his free hand down into the cushions of the sofa and moans hoarse and eager as he comes, hips working up into the empty air.

Then he snaps a picture of himself, spent and splattered in his come and smirks as he goes about cleaning himself up.

It’s an entire half an hour until he gets a reply, and when he does it’s a simple

 **Shiro:** You’ll pay for that.

He shudders with anticipation.

*

In the end, Keith falls asleep on the sofa, and he’s woken up when he’s slapped straight across the face.  With a startled grunt, his eyes pop open, and he finds himself staring up at a steel-eyed Shiro.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Keith slurs. He’s a disaster, half-tucked under a blanket, shirt rucked up, pants rucked down, and god, Shiro is looking at him with what can literally only be described as disgust.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks.  He sounds unamused, but that’s perfectly fine with Keith.  He gives him a lazy, seductive smirk and shrugs his shoulders.

“Plenty,” he says, and then he reaches out to yank Shiro closer by his belt loops.  “You pissed?”

“You sent me nudes at work,” Shiro says, and it’s not really an answer, but Keith figures he doesn’t have one.  That’s half the fun. Shiro can’t ever seem to decide if he wants to beat him or fuck him, and it swirls together into a toxic, delicious combination where Keith’s usually crying by the time he’s coming.

“Let me make it up to you,” he answers and reaches for Shiro’s belt buckle.  With a growl, Shiro steps out of his space and glares down at him.

“Don’t think you’re gonna get your pretty little mouth on me and fix this,” Shiro tells him.  “I want an apology.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says.

“Like you mean it.”

Keith sighs and pouts up at his roommate.  “But I don’t.”

“Clearly,” Shiro says and pushes Keith half off the sofa to make room as he sits down, slowly working off his tie.  He raises an eyebrow when Keith just watches him. “Over my lap. Now.”

Licking his lips, Keith lays himself across Shiro’s lap, leaning his face into one of their throw pillows and Shiro just lets him lay there, listening to the sound of rustling fabric.  Then, the tie lands on the coffee table, just visible from the corner of his eye, and Shiro’s hand comes down on his ass, cold from the chill outside. Keith takes a shaking breath, but he waits while Shiro lets his palm warm against his skin until they’re the same temperature.  Then, he dances his point finger lazily between Keith’s ass cheeks, run from taint to rim.

“You at least left this for me,” he remarks.  “A slut, but a useful one, I suppose. You’ll be nice and tight around me.”  Then his fingers slip away and he bring his hand down on Keith’s ass, a little harder than he would if his temper were more even.  “ _Right_?”

“Yeah,” Keith groans, and then his hand comes down again, a little harder.

“What was that?”

“Shiro, come _on_ , just--AH!” Harder again, fingers digging the meat of his ass a little this time.  He has no time to bite back as his cries as Shiro gives each cheek a few punishing spanks.

“What.  Was. _That_?” Shiro repeats and Keith lets out a little whine, dick twitching in response to the authority in his voice.

“Yes, sir,” he breathes.  Shiro ducks his head down, kisses Keith’s ear with a quiet “Good boy,” hand going still for a few moment to give him a moment to recover.

“Now, tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says again and Shiro scoffs.

“You’re not even trying.”

“I am!” he protests, indignant, and he gets another hard spank for his efforts.

“No, you’re not,” Shiro answers, and God, he’s not wrong.  The pain is perfect, pooling in that burning place inside of him like a salve on the restless energy that’s burning him up from the inside out.

“I’m not,” he confesses.  “This is what I wanted. I wanted you to spank me.”

“If you wanted me to smack you around, you could have asked instead of being a petulant little piece of shit.”

“Probably.”

Another spank, harder.  His ass is starting to heat pleasantly, pink and sensitive.  He’s about to speak up again, but Shiro delivers another blow along with a “No, you stop talking now and take the punishment you wanted so badly that you decided pissing me off was the answer.”

“Yes, sir,” Keith says, flippant.  Shiro growls and suddenly he’s switched to his other hand, to the prosthetic, and Keith is shouting and moaning.  It’s cold, solid and unforgiving as it comes down onto the burning skin of his ass in several hard smacks. “I _said_ shut the fuck up or I’ll fucking gag you, you needy bitch.”

He wants to beg for it, beg for Shiro’s cock, which he can feel going hard against his belly, but instead he just curls in a little and bites his tongue as Shiro continues his tirade.

“I was with a client when you sent me that nasty picture of your hard cock.  Do you know how much trouble I would have been if someone had seen what you were doing?  You didn’t even think about it, did you?”

He drags his nails along Keith’s thighs, and then smacks those, too, Keith gasping with every fresh hit.

“You just decided to sniff out some cock to play with, and you thought I’d be a safe bet, is that it?  You think you have me wrapped around your finger, but the truth is, you’re so hot for me you’d let me do anything to you.  You’re so desperate for my attention that if I left you high and dry right now, you’d still whine and thank me like a bitch in heat.”

Keith can’t answer, because he’s not supposed to speak, but he whimpers and Shiro laughs at him and jiggles his knee, rubbing his pants right against Keith’s straining erection.

“That’s what I thought.  You’re so fucking easy. Maybe I’ll just stretch you open and fill up your hole with my come without ever giving it to you.  You’re mine to use, aren’t you? That’s what you really want. You want to be used and treated like the useless fuckhole you are.  You don’t even deserve that. You’d be too happy if you got dick. You’d be getting what you want, no matter how rough I was with you.  I could leave you bleeding and shaking, and you’d still be happy.”

Shiro’s fingers are probing at his hole again while his prosthetic delivers blow after blow to his thighs.  Shiro leans down, pulls Keith’s ass cheeks apart, and then he spits, using his thumb to spread it around Keith’s twitching rim.  It’s filthy, degrading in a way that even going in dry wouldn’t be, and then Shiro’s thumb pushes in, merciless as it stretches him open.

Keith wants to protest, or maybe beg for more, or beg to be taken to bed and fucked properly, but he’s not supposed to speak, so digs his teeth into his bottom lip and just waits, waits for Shiro to do something other than lazily push his thumb in, then pull it back out, tease, push back in.  It goes on like this for so long that Keith loses track of time. His erection doesn’t wilt, and he’s getting more and more wound up with each minute that passes by, but he zones out a little, focusing in on the slow push-pull, floating lazily in a space where he’s hazy and warm with pleasure and heat.

By the time Shiro shifts under him, he has to blink and focus back in.

“Mmm?” he murmurs.

“I said,” Shiro answers, patient, “That we should go to bed.”

“Okay,” Keith agrees, and then he sits up and automatically turns towards Shiro’s bedroom, kicking his pants off before he starts to walk to avoid any awkward, unsexy waddling.  Shiro smacks him on his ass and strides casually and confidently ahead of him. By the time Keith gets there, Shiro is naked and waiting for him.

“Shirt off,” he says, and so Keith does, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor, and then he lays himself right back down across Shiro’s lap, knowing full well the other man isn’t done playing with him just yet.

“Tell me you’re sorry, Keith,” says Shiro, the sound of lube uncapping feeling like background noise compared to the sweetness of Shiro’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” says Keith.

“No, you’re not.”

He brings his flesh hand down on Keith’s sensitive ass and he yelps, squirming.  That same hand holds one of his hips, stilling it. Keith makes himself take a deep breath in, slow exhale out, and then two cold fingers push into his idly aching rim and he moans, going limp like a rag doll across his roommate’s lap.  

He expects Shiro to wait him out, getting sweating for it, but apparently he’s done teasing, because moments after the fingers push in, they start to move.  Shiro sets a brutal, leg-numbing pace, fingers curving strategic and precise. Keith wails, surprised and overwhelmed, hands gripping, _clawing_ , really, and the sheets beneath him, the silken fabric slipping between his desperate fingers like water, refusing to give him purchase.

“Please,” he whines.  “Shiro, ple--” But before he can finish begging, the fingers pull out, leaving his hole fluttering and empty, and then the flesh hand is back on his ass, going back over the already tender, burning spots and he keens.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods vigorously, but all the can think about is those fingers filling him back up, and it’s got him squirming and bucking as Shiro spanks him.  He catches himself opening his mouth to beg over and over, barely biting his tongue.

He’s used to running his mouth, using dirty talk to rile people up and get what he wants, express his own boiling desire, and having that taken from him not with a gag, but with a simple order, is driving him to the brink.  He wants to taunt and beg until Shiro pushes him down and gives it to him, but he’s forced to just _take_ it.

It feels like forever when the fingers finally come back, a third joining the original two, coated with fresh lube and ice cold.  Keith bites down on his protest, burying his face into the sheets to quiet his whining. Shiro’s driving him up the wall, fingers pushing relentlessly into his prostate, blatantly ignoring his insistent little arches up, trying to make himself look inviting and fuckable.  Shiro’s hard against his belly, so Keith knows he wants it, but he also knows he’s not about to give Keith the thing he so craves until he feels like it.

There’s sweat beading on Keith’s forehead now, and it takes him a long moment to realize the sound on the edge of his mind is his own whining and sobbing, as well as the wet squelch of his lube-wet hole getting well-fucked, but God, it’s not enough.

He jerks, cock dripping on Shiro’s thigh.  His body feels like it’s going to explode, cock aching, so when Shiro drives his fingers in just right, pushes his thigh up, he can hardly be blamed, shouting wordlessly as he spills onto Shiro’s bare thigh, ears popping from the force of the pleasure

He comes down from the orgasm to Shiro inspecting him, laying him out in bed, before stepping back and stepping out of his stained pants.

“Take a nap,” Shiro says, cleaning him up and covering him with a blanket before getting into bed next to him.  “After dinner, we’ll continue.”

Keith closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep with his body still thrumming, aching for more.

**Author's Note:**

> come get nasty w/ me on twitter [@fishgrayson](https://twitter.com/fishgrayson)


End file.
